Arabella remained still as the night, her lungs scrambling to reacquaint themselves with the concept of breathing.
From where it whispered rustles, the water stream beckoned the young woman to rush forward and sink her face deep beneath its surface, promising to offer solace and the alleviating cool her burning skin so desperately needed.
Silas never pressed or tugged. Lighter than a feather, his touch was as gentle as every other time he'd laid hands on her and his warmth did not help the rising temperature at her core one bit.
"The wounds are small and thankfully superficial enough," he took his fingers back, but the tingles they'd caused lingered, "The blood around them has already coagulated which is a great benefit," out of his vest, he pulled a clean piece of cloth, "With the help of the water, hopefully we can wipe the spilled blood away,"
Silas stood up and moved towards the running river before kneeling again, that time, he faced the body of water.
